Decision
by ladyredvelvet
Summary: When Trunks is roped into working for a mysterious pet shop owner he finds that he is being watch frequently by a pair of yellow cat like eyes. What is this pet that is enticed by him? And where did it come from? Better yet why did he choose him? AU Goten/Trunks


**Credits:** I want to give a HUGE thank you to Orchideater whose story Dégager: The Saiyajin Pet is a big inspiration for this piece here. Please PLEASE read her story! It is amazing and you all will love it. I also giving credits to DBZ and Pet Shop of Horrors and other misc. cameos in this story cause I wouldn't be able to make it. But seriously read Orchideater's story you can find it in my favorites.

**Over here!: **Alright, even though I am pulling some inspiration from Orchideater's story I am NOT using her plotline besides the PSoH characters introducing the pet. (I feel bad piggy backing and I know she gave me permission but I don't want to sequeal her story or anything.) I will be doing a different coupling that settles in my cold little heart which is Goten and Trunks. In this rewritten plot twist, obviously AU, the characters will be 'human' as can be with only exception of one character. I also will tell you that eventually there will be male on male smut (I mean I go lemony ladies and gents so please do not read if you are under 17...I MEAN IT!) Also grammar mistakes galore (I tried rewriting it over and over but this came out.) so if you see something I can correct it or if you wanna Beta I would not mind either :D.

Another thing! This is set in the 90's the aftermath of the Gulf War (Operation Desert Storm) has happened (This is set in California L.A) . Trunks will be going through Post traumatic stress disorder which I feel I did not write correctly. Again if you feel that I need to rewrite some parts where he has flash backs please tell me because I want it to feel cohesive. The medications named are for those have gone through PTSD. Yes some of them are mixed but you will eventually see why in later chapters. (Again if the medication is too much I will not add them at all.)

**Warnings: **A three characters with PTSD, drugs, mentions of past war inflictions, cursing, gore, eventual homoerotic primal male/male smut. Some OOC from characters and changing a few for the purpose of the story.

Rated M. FUCK this is long I am sorry get to the story! (Go read Orchideater's story though!) I don't own anything!

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**Decision: What to expect when you adopt a Saiyajin Pet**

"Mr. Oujisama is everything alright?"

Fingers tugged on his own raw tan flesh trying to erase whatever the therapist brought up. Stop asking questions he thought sourly. Just stop asking questions.

He did _not_ want to talk about his _troubles_ during the Gulf War. All he wanted to do is inject himself with morphine and go to sleep forever. This little session of help is not giving him what he needed most.

"Mr. Oujisama? You were…" the therapist flipped through his notes situating his glasses on his broad nose to again stare at his patient. "Telling me about your time with your-"

Trunks shook his head, lavender hair spilling over dense blue eyes filled with nothing but despair. He pulled off the breaks of his wheelchair spinning them towards the exit door trying to get away from the overtly lit room. He had enough "Dr. Gero I really don't want to talk anymore." He politely inclined his head opening the door gently. "Thank you again however I just want some medication is all."

The elder gentleman wrinkled his brow sighing. "Trunks, I will never know what you went through." He paused allowing the younger soldier to take in his words carefully. "It is understandable that you do not want to talk about such things as of yet and I apologize for pushing you."

A sickly sympathetic smile tugged his lips as he pulled out another pad from his mahogany chest drawer scribbling down the prescriptions needed for his patient. "Make sure you do see a more qualified therapist. I may be your psychiatrist but there is so much that I can do."

Yea, that is what everyone says. Trunks thought to himself taking the slip of paper with a genuine smirk. "Thank you Dr. Gero, I will make sure to keep in touch."

Trunks said another good bye wheeling his way out of the bland, suffocating office.

OOOoooOO

Another day, another fucking day where he just wanted everything to go right and not end up going down into the dump.

The doctor had told him he would not be able to get the casts off his legs until another month. The fracture is still bad that the bones were taking a while to heal.

Not to mention his own health being at risk with the illnesses surrounding the camps during the Gulf War.

Trunks sighed inwardly, trying to think positive about the situation. All he could really think about though is sleep, since seven days ago when he arrived home he just wanted to curl up in his covers and rest.

"Well at least you aren't paralyzed." His mother tried to be optimistic but earned silence in response. "Thank goodness the government is paying for this. Your father is already having a fit that our insurance is not picking up the psychiatrist."

She paused for a moment glancing at her son in the car briefly taking in his sullen appearance. He did not look like her happy go lucky son, not at all, this twenty five year old man sitting in the car just made her feel unsettled. Bulma wished with all her might that he would be miraculously healed and everything would go back to normal.

Wishes are for drunks and the homeless Vegeta would say when trying to bring her back to reality. She even reached the conclusion that everything he said is true. Optimism is foreign, only glimmers of it shine through the bleak pessimism that situated itself in their dysfunctional family.

Silently Trunks stared at his battered legs for a moment before staring at his mother. "I'm sorry…" Bulma tried not to cry and instead shook her head when she turned into the driveway. "Nonsense sweetie, you did nothing wrong! The war is a dangerous place and we are just happy that you are still alive."

Alive and broken he thought bitterly to himself when refused to allow his mother to help him out the car door. "Mom, please, I can do it. " he ruefully smiled pulling out his wheelchair stuck in the back.

Bulma shook her head getting out of the car and opening the door to his side. Be damned if she allowed her, handicapped son, to get out on his own! What kind of mother would she be if she did not help her own son?

The lavender haired boy stepped out with a pained expression. He had forgotten his hip dislocation did not help either with the process. Bulma fretted, he ignored her protests, opening the wheelchair up and settling down onto the hated comfort once more.

"Your squadron leader called, he said they could get in some physical therapy for you after you get the casts off." Trunks nodded his head again staring at his mother's pained eyes. Bulma couldn't stop her roiling emotions when she swooped down hugging her son. "I love you so much sweetie. Never forget that okay?"

He felt distraught for a moment, almost pushing her away at the confining embrace. The memories, those dreaded memories flooded his mind when he felt himself falling into the ditch again. The horrible stench of charred bodies surrounding him all he could do to save one is to cover him from the next blast.

_Don't breathe hard, don't say a word, it's okay, this is just mom. You are fine. That incident happened weeks ago, just stay calm._

"I love you to mom." He wished he could say that without it sounding hallow. He wished that he could follow Dr. Gero's orders and be normal.

That wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

OooOOoooOOoo

"_Adam put down the gun."_

_The dreams warped into a familiar scene creating obscene amounts of red drenching the two soldiers in blood. He watched with azure eyes at the comically enormous gun pointed his way. _

"_Fuck you Trunks! Fuck you and this whole fucking army!" Trunks tried to run away, to save the youngest recruit Dende. The gun's bullet turned into a large Scub bomb careening towards him with impeccable speed._

_He tried to out run it, but time slowed down when he hauled Dende from their spot only to both explode on impact with a loud scream._

"AH! No! NO!"

The lights flickered on instantly his vision blurred for a moment when two figures came in wrestling him on the bed.

"TRUNKS! Stop it's me! Your mother!"

"Quiet woman you're making him scream more stop smothering him!"

Where is he? He could feel their hands all over him the doctors' scalpels slicing through his bones. Oh God the pain! Oh fuck his legs he can't feel his legs!

"Bulla get the sedative now!"

Footsteps echoed down the hospitals hallway, he could hear the screams again. Soldiers drenched in blood were reaching for him in the hospital! Their corpses dragging over his body pleading with him to save them. Large unhinged jaws screaming, they kept on screaming for him to help find their body parts.

"Stick it in him! Do it here!"

They were all over him! The bodies were all over him they would not stop piling up. He had to save one of them, just one of them from the bomb! They won't stop screaming! No! NO!

A piece of shrapnel sliced through his neck then the screaming stopped. Serenity filled him when the voices started to hiss quietly "we need to put him in the hospital."

Hospital? But he is already in a hospital.

His mind grew foggy when he slipped into the dredges of the cold abyss where he finally fell asleep.

OoooOooO

The halls were bustle full of noise when he awoke. He groggily stared over at the window the light pouring over his covered body.

He sat up wearily head pounding when he glanced over at the clock. It read 6:09 in flashing red letters beating into skull.

He noticed all of his medication lined up nicely by his bed side table with a glass of water. He usually put it out but this time his mother had intervened in his usual regime.

"Hello Klonopin and random vitamins." Taking a handful of them he swallowed them whole with a swig of water grimacing at the taste.

In another hour he would have to take Paxil with some food then take another Klonopin at night. Just another cocktail of cacophony that he hated to digest. It did not do any good, and he recently stopped taking his Klonopin earlier then he should have.

That of course ended up in night terrors in which explained the spot of blood near the side of his neck.

Getting up with another heave he dragged his lower casted body onto the wheelchair's padding starting to make his bed like a good soldier smoothing out the linens. He rolled out of his tidied room into the overtly decorative hallway. He will have to begrudgingly thank his Grandma Panchy for the odd ball colors distributed on the walls.

His ears picked up a familiar noise when he rounded the corner of their humble abode. Eyes landed on his grandmother on a table dancing like a young teen. Bulla cried for her grandmother to get off but the blonde haired woman refused gleefully. "Nonsense darling I am dancing with the prince!"

Just a normal day he supposed, he is actually grateful for the distraction when he wheeled his way towards the commotion. "Grandma you need to get down before you hurt yourself."

Bulla just glared at him when their grandmother bounced off the table sprightly as ever. "Aw honey what did you do?" still aloof as ever Grandma Panchy sullenly stared at her grandson's legs when he shook his head.

"An accident, fell off a latter." He rehearsed this time and again with his mother's mom knowing that her dementia has settled in during his time through the war.

Gingerly Panchy kissed his cheek alongside the grimacing Bulla's when she skipped off to play with her birds. He smiled at his grandmother's blatant innocence; it made him feel slightly normal after everything.

"You can always coax her into anything." His teal haired sister huffed checking his neck then softening her stare. "Trunks, you forgot to take your medication again…"

Trunks gripped his wheels rolling past her shaking his head. "Yes, I did and I am sorry okay! I was just trying to…Not feel doped up all the time."

He grabbed a piece of fruit off the table where he picked up a note that lay underneath. Bulla sighed again when she started to pack her things for school. "Look Trunks, I love you, but you have to understand that you can't just skip your pills! You're only putting yourself and others in danger."

Am I that bad? Am I a monster? He thought when Bulla finished her gentle rant. He glared over his shoulder pointing an accusatory finger knowing damn well she had no idea what the fuck he is going through. How dare she think that he is some retarded mental case that can't do a thing but only cause his family pain!

"Don't you think I know that, Bulla? I can't stand where I am at now. I am trying to cope I am TRYING." His words became exasperated pleas when Bulla stood there scrutinizing him pitifully. It made his sksin boil the way his sister, his mother even his father a times stared at him like a damaged pet. "Stop staring at me damint! I am fine!"

She took a step back blue eyes widening before glancing away. A honk disturbed the intense atmosphere cutting through it like a knife leaving Bulla to retreat from her brother's ire. "No Trunks you are not fine. Get help please."

The door slammed shut when Trunks hit against the cast causing him an influx of pain. Damn that was stupid. He growled trying to settle his fleeting emotions in check. What was happening to him? Was he really so emotional? His father would never approve of his state, never.

Vegeta always stood proudly, a confident owner of the cooperate world never allowing no one to step on him. He is the man Trunks desired to be but never had the guts to achieve. Even a few inches taller Trunks always felt slighted, the weaker one who couldn't hold a candle to what his father did.

Not to say Vegeta is proud of him because of his purple heart. It wasn't the approval it was the hope for a better relationship with his father when he came home from war. He never really knew his father well, ever since he was a child no amount of trophies could get Vegeta to say 'great job son'.

It bothered him that his mother gave both he and Bulla all the love yet Vegeta turned a cold shoulder. He just wanted something he would never receive. It was a fruitless hope that diminished any thought of such a relationship with his father.

His tired eyes glanced down at the scrawled note eyes widening when the word 'hospitalization' in large, toxic letters popped into his frame of sight. So, his dad wanted to put him back in the asylum? Well fuck him too, he had only been here for six days and they were already sick of him. So much for father son time.

Guess he didn't want his deranged son ruining his untarnished reputation Trunks thought bitterly when he tore up the paper indifferently.

Didn't matter if he were a soldier, he was still a pitiful ant in Vegeta's eyes.

He rolled through the back way of the one story enormous deco house waving to his delirious grandmother who sang to the birds. Trunks just had to get out of here he didn't care where it would take him just somewhere other than this suffocating place.

How long he had been gone he was unsure of. The minutes rolled by into hours when he started to roll through the passageways of Los Angeles crowded streets. With his luck he found some money to hail a cab. Albeit the guy was disgusted that he had to carry yet another cripple to a destination.

Trunks ignored him when he told the driver to go into Chinatown. He had no idea why he just felt the need to go there. To be somewhere different in order to push away the haunting memories that flooded his spinning mind.

The cab driver dropped him off at busily hustled street that led towards the main commodities of Chinatown. Trunks paid him with a smile the tall Latino man helped with his wheelchair begrudgingly peeling away once the fucker got out.

He waved off the excess ozone clearing his view of the small town. Wow, Chinatown is more crowded than he expected. There must have been a celebration recently from all the left over confetti surrounding the area. In a way he felt comforted by the fact that no matter how one feels you can never be sad when a party comes around.

Or at least that is what his old friend used to say.

Shit, he has got to stop thinking about his old friend. That was a weeks ago he had to let it go. Just breathe he thought just breathe. Rubbing insistently on his forehead to ease the tension he traveled through the bustling streets weaving through the passer byers until a rickety old sign caught his eyes.

"Count D's." weird, he had never seen this before. He really has only been down to Chinatown a couple of times when he was a young kid. Never had he seen an odd pagoda styled shop wedged in between two normal stores.

Apprehensively he wheeled his way to the stylized dragon doors unsure whether to open them or not. His breathing stilled when the door itself creaked open expecting him to be here. Blue eyes hesitantly peered in before pushing the mahogany door fully open.

"Come in, stay for tea will you." A smooth voice called. His soldier's instincts to fight came when he held onto the door quickly. However the soothing aroma of lavender caught him by surprise when he rolled right in cautiously. "Hello?" he called out.

The door shut behind him with a whack.

Hair bristling from the noise the trained marine balled his fists ready to strike when a sinewy figure clothed in a traditional Chinese cheongsam appeared. Mismatched eyes stared out through evenly chopped hair delicate fingers pushing it back to see his visitor.

"Ah, why hello sir. I apologize for the door, it tends to do that every once in a while." Painted nails clicked against a tea cup which he settled onto the awe stricken hands of a speechless soldier.

Trunks shook his head trying to focus opening his mouth and closing it to take in his surroundings like he should have earlier. He is losing his training techniques a bit too quickly then he liked.

The room itself is ornately decorated with Chinese antiques filled with soft glowing orange lights. Obviously the man had taste, ancient antique taste, full of wealth and fortitude. Secrets even he may add. His dad would think otherwise, probably call him a pansy fairy that dressed like a high end Chinese prostitute.

He flushed when he realized that he is a tad underdress with his khaki shorts and stained black muscle shirt. He looked like a clean shaven vagrant with his various bruises, scratches and casted lower half. Also, he forgot to put deodorant on, he probably smelled like shit. Thank God this unusual man is burning incense.

"I-um…I…" he stuttered staring down at the decorative cup.

A small tinkling laugh fell from dark lips when Count D waved his hand to beckon Trunks towards the dais where he sat rigidly sipping his tea. Trunks held the cup unsure what to do when he settled it between his legs wheels rolling over towards the unusual pale man.

"Oh where are my manners. My name is Count D, are you interested in looking at any animals?" Count D smiled when the young man only sipped his tea gingerly placing it back on the table.

"Animals? You mean pets?" a bat like creature fluttered nearby from the darkness chirping gleefully. Trunks gasped almost dropping the cup when it flew overhead to land on Count D's shoulder chirping again when the Count rubbed its ears lightly. Oh God is his medication making him hallucinate? "This is Q-chan, my most honorable companion. He tends to be curious of any new customers especially you." The Count pursed his lips drinking his tea thoughtfully. "I have heard you served in the Gulf War. You are considered a hero might I add."

Trunks gawked at the blatant confession of his departure to Kuwait. Only his parents and close friends knew that he served in the III Marine Expeditionary Force. How did this man he only met once know? Nothing is written in the papers he hoped, oh shit what if there is?

Count D took his silence in stride gingerly placing his cup on the table. "News is heard fast when your father's cooperate elite friends come to my shop."

Trunks snorted at that, Vegeta having friends? Now he definitely must be hallucinating. The only one who could tolerate the hot head enough is their next door neighbor Goku. "My father isn't really the friendly type." He isn't surprised however that Count D knew about his father. Everyone did, the papers did a great job hyping up his image as the loving family man and big time CEO.

"So… -"

"Trunks, Mr. Oujisama sounds too much like my father."

Count D's eyes flickered akin to curiosity; he will have to ask more about Trunks's apathetic behavior about his father. That shall be saved for later though "Trunks then, I have something to show you. Shall we?" Gracefully the Count stood up grandly gesturing towards a hidden oak door. The lavender haired man stayed put still hesitant about this "I don't want a pet though if that is what you're implying..."

The proprietor gently laid a hand on his shoulder nodding his head. "Nonsense, nothing wrong with a bit of browsing correct? You will be safe; nothing will harm you while I am here. Keep by my rules and everything will be fine."

Still apprehensive, the marine wheeled behind Count D who led them through the oak door into an incense laden hallway covered in beautiful redwood paneling. The offset glow of the orange lights in every room made him curious to see inside but chided instantly by Count D's slender finger shaking in front of his face.

"No looking my dear friend we do not want to disturb the animals. What I am about to show is more interesting."

Trunks should have called his mother, she is probably already freaking out already. He thought about that statement again shrugging his shoulders. He isn't a child anymore and he can take care of himself. He wheeled forward following the sinewy figure down the hallway pushing off doubts in the back of his mind. "Here we are. "

He stopped immediately in front of the door waiting for Count D's instructions. Instead he got a scarf placed in his lap. "Please put it around your neck sir, I shall tell you why we do so around this particular creature."

Creature? What the fuck is going on? Shit, he could start rolling back now, or he could use his weight to beat up the guy if he tries anything funny. He learned too much in the Marines to let some pansy push him around. Or so he thought, it seemed that everything taught to him slipped through his muddled brain.

"Wait here a moment if you please to allow me to prepare him."

Trunks sat in his Wheelchair grasping at straws. He should know what to do! He was the fucking second lieutenant for Christ's sake! He had been trained mercilessly in every situation to handle with caution and care.

Now he seemed at a lost, all of his years of training out of Highschool and he has no idea what to do. He takes a risk putting the scarf around his neck his body trembling from the intense rupture of anxiety.

"You may come in now Mr. Trunks." This is it, now or never. He would enter into that room with fists up and fight for his life if he had too. He would not allow his anxiety to take over him when he needs to think clearly.

Heaving in a sigh he rolled his wheelchair in hesitantly entering into the dimly lit room.

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Oh look some cameos that are Namekians hurr hurr.

Yes I will be adding different cameo animals from different anime's (they will be entirely off the wall and not apart of the plot but still there for a more interesting read I guess.) Alongside our favorite DBZ and PSoH characters appearing (Albeit it will mostly center around Goten and Trunks so yay!)

Again if you have any questions, concerns or just downright hate my writing burn away!

The next chapter: Introducing Trunks's new pet...Or will it be his new pet?


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